


Sodales

by Carinalove67



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 1800s, 1920s, AU, Biblical times, F/M, French Revolution, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5069587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carinalove67/pseuds/Carinalove67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some would tell you that soulmates do not exist. I, however, would have to tell you that those people are wrong. Doctor/Clara Soulmates AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sodales

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I've spent a while working on this and I hope you all enjoy it. Working on AO3 from now on with a new name (used to be ohmystarsshiz on ft.net). I lost my formatting in uploading this so please excuse the loss of italics.

It was often said that there were beings in the Universe who were destined to be with each other for the whole of eternity. 

They called it soulmates. 

Two people, whose souls were intwined for the whole of existence. 

Two people who belonged together ultimately. 

Of course, most claimed this idea to be utter nonsense. The laws of time and space and life simply did not adhere to the silly beliefs of men and their idea of soulmates. 

Unless of course, there was an exception.

And for this exception, they did.

XXXX

The lowly life of a man such as he did not defer him from his path. He was a great fighter, and a great warrior.

Time just did not know it yet.

Entering the ring, he looked to his surroundings. He was not afraid. 

The look on his face was one of bravery. This was his honour; his time to do right.

He had one chance to prove himself, and his whole life had led him to this. He would prove his honour and he would show the people that he was worthy.

He knew it right then that this moment could be the moment in which his whole life could change.

None could have really foreseen that he would see her sat in the stalls. She surely was a vision of the Gods, and he couldn't help but feel like he knew her. And as sure as the Gods that controlled the Earth and sea, he knew that he would never cease to think of her until his dying day. Surely a woman wouldn't deter him from his clear mind and focus, but she had. She was......extraordinary. She was something new and familiar all at once.

The woman smiled at him, breaking him away from his momentary gaze. He must have been staring, for his mind was blank as to what he had been doing for the previous few moments. And as sure as he was alive, she must have been staring back.

Remembering the task at hand, he turned his heads to bow to the masters witnessing the scene, or as one would usually phrase it, the entertainment.

Yet, for the first time since he could remember, this moment seemed not to be of any importance. It didn't matter; the bull in front of him, or even defeating it. Of course he would defeat it. That was obvious.

It was as obvious and as plain as knowing when the stars would align, and knowing that he had to see that woman again. 

She truly was a vision of beauty. To even speak her name was to sing a lullaby to the Gods. He was sure that he would not even be able to bring up the words in order to melt her sweet charms. Alas, he knew this was a fact for a lowly man such as he would never match up to the Beauty of Greece.

But to admit to such a longing for the Lady Diantha was surely suicidal. She was the most beautiful, sought out Lady in the whole of Athens. Even the goddess Aphrodite, herself, would struggle to even put a scratch on the lady Diantha. 

Her father was one of the richest men in the great city, and she would one day marry a wealthy young man. A great victor, or merchant. 

It wouldn't even matter that he was the most victorious fighter that the pits had seen for years. It wouldn't matter that men, women and children came out in their thousands to watch the great warrior Adonis fight against the Bulls. Diantha would still never even so much as set her eye upon him, expect perhaps from a distance as she watched him in the ring for entertainment. 

All musings forgotten, Adonis flew on the cheers and hisses of the crowd as the bull charged towards him. He rebelled in the sensation of knowing he was stronger and more powerful than the ghastly animal. 

Beating the bull felt like being an eternal God. He felt strong and brilliant, like he was a Lord of all around him. 

And when he impaled the bull onto his tiny knife, one which wouldn't even stretch the span of a human midsection, he felt glorious. 

Turning towards the superior members of the crowd, ignoring the dirtier peasants who were cheering for him, Adonis took his bow, gently smiling at the beautiful Diantha as he did so. 

And for all the heavens it was worth it, for when he rose back up she was looking directly at him, a small smile located on her beautiful face. That smile was known to break hearts and move mountains, and sure as day would it break his when he was able to return to reality. 

But in that moment, he looked into her warm chocolate eyes and smiled. 

One day. 

One day he would see her again. 

 

XXXXXX

 

New life. 

The cries of a baby girl echo throughout the huts of the tribe. Another young life to welcome into the world. 

She would be destined for great things, they were sure. This baby was a blessing, her soul written in the stars.

 

Over 4000 miles away, a lonely man sat around his table with his fellow soldiers. 

He felt empty, although he did not know why. 

He had brought great honour on his family, fighting for the Great Emporer in their great country. 

All he knew, however, is that he had always felt empty. 

Staring at the measly pieces whilst he plays Mahjong with his fellow comrades, he can't help but wonder if there is something more to this world than the suits we are born in to. 

Rings, characters, bamboo sticks, winds and dragons. 

What if we are something more than just what we are dealt?

Picking up his next tile, the soldier couldn't help but ponder. 

His tile bore the image of a baby girl, sleeping in her crib. 

Snapping out of his gaze, the soldier picked up another tile, absentmindedly murmuring "flowerpot" to the other players as he did so. 

He would never, in this life, think upon the little girl in the crib from the African tribe again. 

 

 

XXXX

 

She is there again, waiting to speak to him. 

He can't help but feel empathy for her. She had lost her husband, and been left alone with their two children. And what is a widowed mother to do for her children if she does not quickly marry again?

But she was still grieving, and yet her family had already arranged her in marriage to someone new. It was only a month before that her husband had suddenly died. 

He finished his sermon to the congregation, unable to keep his mind off the young woman looking up at him. 

He tried to remember to speak of wrongdoing and reprimand the community for their sins, but instead he spoke about kindness and the good deeds we should do for others. He put it down to the hope in the woman's eyes as she looked to him for advice.

Once he was finished, he waited for his congregation to slowly walk away. Perhaps he was more withdrawn than usual, but his thoughts were drowning him.

He knew she would come to him once they were alone and she felt that she could talk without anyone prying ears. She had visited him everyday since her husband's death, seeking some form of confirmation from her God that he truly was glorious and did exist; for why had be taken someone so precious from her if he was such a loving being?

And it was a priest's job to affirm and to comfort those in their times of need. 

"Rabbi?" She spoke softly, when the last echo of the fellow worshippers' footsteps had left the temple. 

"Inbal." He smiled, nodding to her so that she could follow his lead into the private area in which they could speak. 

She smiled softly in return, adjusting the dark scarf that covered her head as she walked behind the man. 

The room they moved to was set up for the Rabbi to talk to his congregation in moments like this. Nevertheless, he chose to move his seat closer to the young woman so they could speak better. 

Perhaps it was immodest of him to do so, overstepping his boundaries as a holy man. But he himself had felt grief not too long ago when his wife had died, and he knew how it felt to need comfort from others. 

"Michal," Inbal spoke, barely whispering as though she were afraid of even God himself to hear, "I fear that I will never love the man my parents wish for me to marry. I told Yaakov that he would be the only man I would ever tell I loved, apart from the Lord that is. Yet I cannot see myself living a life with a man who I do not love. And what about my children....should I not love this man for them?" Her words were broken, and her voice was croaked as though this were the first time she has taken a moment to speak in between crying and complete silence.

Michal thought about her words before leaning forward softly to place his hand over hers. Other priests would frown upon his touching of a woman, but she needed it, and he was here to help. 

"Inbal, loving another man will never reduce the love you felt and still feel for Yaakov. Yaakov is with God now, and he loves you very much still, but love is not infinite. It comes in all shapes and sizes, and we are able to love many people or simply one in our lives. In loving your new husband, you won't be betraying Yaakov."

Inbal looked down to her feet, her face screwing up as she held back tears. Her soft skin had become course from the many tears it held felt in the past month, and she was not sure she would be able to stop if she started crying once more. 

"But Michal...I'm not even sure I can live anymore. I find myself hating God himself. How could he take Yaakov away?"

Michal looked at the young woman and sighed. He tried to sum up all his knowledge of the Lord's workings and give an answer as a Rabbi should, but he couldn't bring himself to do that to this young woman. 

"Maybe God gets it wrong sometimes. After all, if we are made in his image, then in the end our God is only human. He tries to do what is best, but sometimes you can't save everyone."

And in the silence that followed, a silent understanding came forth in that moment between the widow and the Rabbi. He would comfort her furthermore until they heard the wine sellers come out from their homes and begin to shout out their trade.

She would come again the next day for more advice and comfort, as she would continue to for a few months yet. 

And there would soon come a day when he only saw her occasionally, when she accompanied her new husband to Temple. For she would learn how to smile again soon. 

And the Rabbi would be happy in his knowledge that his own doubts and misgivings had helped another. 

Rabbi Michal had a feeling that one day he would perhaps comfort her in grief again.

XXXXXX

"Beatrice?" A voice called in the distance.

A woman rummaging through the parlour looked up as she heard her name called. 

Her blonde hair was covered in flour and her clothes contained egg on them from her cooking. There was no time for her to clean up and she knew she would receive a sharp scolding for her state of clothing.

A stern looking woman walked into the room and Humphed disapprovingly at Beatrice's state, eyeing the stains that would take days to remove, no doubt.

"Goodness child, do you not ever find a day when you are not covered in some disgusting concoction?" She snapped, moving her eyes away as though she were disgusted.

Beatrice looked up, scowling as she usually did. She was by no means a child, and she only was dirty some days.

"If I may Madame, the chickens did not appreciate my egg collecting today and that is the reason for my untidiness." She spoke softly, not wishing to annoy the woman any further.

The woman yet again responded with a humph, leaving Beatrice to scowl even more. This woman was in no way her superior. Just because she had been working in this kitchen longer, by no means made her a Lady. They each had the same amount of authority as the other.

"Well, I expect dinner to be ready for the Master of the house within the hour. You know how fussy he gets when it isn't on time." The woman grumbled, before storming out of the parlour. 

"Yes your majesty." Beatrice grumbled under her breath, returning to what she had been doing earlier. 

A soft purr sounded behind Beatrice and she turned around to smile at the grey cat. 

"Hello Clem." She called, sitting down in a chair beside her so that the cat could climb into her lap. 

The grey cat looked at her suspiciously, before hesitantly climbing onto the table beside her and perching on the edge for a moment. 

Beatrice gave him a stern look, her way of telling him off, before he finally decided to walk slowly onto her lap.

He even took a long moment to settle before he eventually made himself comfortable where he was. Even then, he settled with a scowl.

"You are probably the grumpiest cat in the whole wide world Clem." Beatrice laughed, running her fingers through his soft grey fur. 

The cat was reluctant to purr, only doing so quietly once he was perfectly content in his position. 

Despite all that, Beatrice loved this cat. She had ever since she began working in this household when she was just a young adult ten years ago.

"You know, sometimes I think you're my only friend in the world Clem." Beatrice murmured as though she were telling this cat a great secret, which in some ways she was.

The cat seemed to agree with this, nudging her hand with his nose and nuzzling up to her.

"Actually, you probably are my only friend. It's not like anyone will ever love me anyway. I'll be perfectly happy with you as my only love." Beatrice laughed to herself. 

The cat continued to scowl, despite agreeing with her all the same. Even though he was a cat, Beatrice always felt like he could understand her. Her one true companion. 

If only a human could bring her the sense of completion that Clem could.

Some would call her sad for devoting so much time to a silly, little pet. 

At least Clem never told her what to do.

XXXXX

He snuck in the through the open window, quietly making his way through the small kitchen. 

If only he could find refuge for the night, then maybe he could get out of Paris in the early morning and find his way elsewhere; start again in a far away land. Maybe he could go to Spain, or even England. They would be sure to never look for him there. 

His quiet footsteps echoed on the stone floor beneath him, causing him to hiss at each step he took. He was grateful for how easy it had been to break in without alerting the owners of the property. He only needed a place to stay for the night, and hopefully he could leave once morning arrived, before the police located him.

His quiet ministrations had all gone to plan, or so he had thought, when suddenly he felt a heavy object slam around the back of his head with a heavy sound that rung in his ears for moments after.

"Agh!" He cried, feeling the large object hit him once again, and again, and again, and again. His vision went blurry and he could have sworn the shape of his skull was changing with each sharp hit.

"Stop please! I mean no harm!" He cried, covering his head with his arms as he turned around to face his brutal attacker, struggling to keep his feet flat on the floor as he did so.

"Come to steal did you? Or come to hurt us and take our gold? Well we have nothing! And my father is currently informing the authorities. I'll see to it it that they get you, you insolent thief!" A young woman's voice cried, continuing to hit what seemed to be a pan over the back of the young man's head. He had to give her some credit, that for a girl she one hell of an arm on her. 

"Please! I didn't mean to steal! I just wished for refuge for the night! I swear mademoiselle, I'm sorry!" He cried, cowering down slightly to avoid the wrath of another well aimed hit to his head. 

He took a deep sigh of relief when he was able to spend a few seconds feeling no pain from another whack, and even braved himself to look up to his attacker. 

The woman looked angry....very angry. She wasn't tall, but then she wasn't small. Her piercing blue eyes were trained on him, and her pan was still clutched tight in her fist, ready to attack should he betray his word. 

"Merci." He said breathily, a headache beginning to form. He would definitely feel this in the morning....if he made it to the morning.

"Why do you seek refuge?" The woman asked, straight down to the point. She clearly had no time for any lies.

She was a clever one...and tough. 

"Well..." He began, not sure how to phrase an explanation in a good way, just in case she were against the resistance. 

"I may have pissed off a few people in the government, "he mumbled, "and now I need to leave..." 

He tried to take a step towards the window again, but she blocked him with her body, preventing him from going any further. 

He tried to step around the other side of her, but she stopped him again, using her whole body to make him stay put.

"So you're a part of the revolution?" She questioned, looking at him quizzingly. 

He sighed, taking his chances. It's not as though this house were one belonging to anyone particularly rich. The opposite in fact. 

"That seems to be what we are calling it these days." He sighed, waiting for her to put down that ruddy pan of hers. 

"Are you hiding from the police?" She continued, raising her eyebrows quizzingly when he took a long moment to reply. 

"Why yes I am," he began, examining his surroundings. He seemed to be in a kitchen of sorts. He picked up a small section of bread off the table beside him and began to chew on it. 

The woman glared angrily at him, but he shrugged his shoulders in return. Who knew when the next time he would get to eat would be?

Mulling over his thoughts, that now included a permanent ring in his ears, he suddenly froze.

"Wait." He began, throwing the bread back on the table as he looked around in a panic, "Did you say your father has gone to fetch the police?" 

A switch may as well have been flicked as he began to lose his cool, suddenly examining his surroundings to find a way of escape.

The woman's eyes widened and she took a hurried, deep breath. 

"I have to leave. I must leave right this second." He panicked, rushing towards the window once more and climbing up onto the cabinet nearby to get out, knocking over some pots in his scramble.

"Wait!" The woman cried, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt frantically. "My father hasn't gone to the police!"

"You could be lying for all I know!" He shouted back at this peculiar woman. 

"I don't have a father. I live here alone! I made it up to scare you. God knows what a young man's intentions are if he knows he is alone in a house with a girl!" She retorted, suddenly more willing to reveal this information. 

He froze, sighing to himself. It's not as though he had heard anyone in the street passing by, and he was sure the police would be here by now if they had been called for. 

"Fine." He murmured warily, climbing down from the window, brushing his dirty hands on his trousers. 

He looked at the girl, who was staring at him defiantly. Clearly she wanted him to stay anyhow. In fact, she looked to have had a sudden change of heart from her earlier business with that ruddy pan.

"Pierre." He announced, once he was back on his feet, holding out his hand for her to shake. "Pierre Lacroise." 

"Well Monsieur Lacroise..." She pondered. The young woman seemed to debate internally what she would say next. "Azelma Bruyere at your service." She finally decided upon, nodding discretely at the same time.

She stuck out her hand to shake his, but in a smooth gesture he swiftly picked up her hand to place a gentle kiss on the back of it. 

"So, he's been taught manners then, has he?" Azelma laughed, watching his growing smirk. She had a sense of humour them.

"Believe it or not, not all boys are completely rude." He joked, trying to ease the tension slightly.

Moving back into the heart of the small room, Azelma laughed gently. 

"Oh really? From what I've heard all you boys want is one thing...bit dangerous really, allowing one into my darling home." She teased, leaning back against a nearby counter top.

Pierre smiled to himself, clearly hearing the joking tone within her voice. "Does that mean you're living on the edge? Hoping for some adventure mademoiselle?"

"If you like." She laughed, shrugging awkwardly.

At the edge of the room there was a small bed for someone to sleep on. He guessed that this was where the woman slept. This place really was incredibly small.

She took a seat on the bed and patted the place beside her, signalling for him to do so too. He hastily joined her, watching how she was entertained by his lively spirit. 

"So..." She began awkwardly, looking at the young man. He couldn't have been more than thirty years old, if that. Surely he was just a boy. What was he doing for the revolution? "What have you done that has made you such a high profile criminal? I mean, I want to know if the fugitive I am harbouring is worth the risk..."

Pierre smirked lightly, though it held hints of sadness in it. "I wanted to make a difference." He said softly. "The rich take it all and leave us here to rot...there are enough of us to rise up and bring the monarchy down. But I got caught helping men who were wanted. So now I am wanted." He hoped it was simple enough to avoid any complicated questions he would feel obliged to answer.

Azelma smiled. "It's a nice idea....everyone being equal. No king to rule and tell us what to do, taking all our money for himself." Her smile was melancholy. It was telling for a girl as young as her. She shouldn't know how to have such a sad smile.

"It's not an idea," he objected heartily, "it's a reality. It will happen soon one day, I know it."

Azelma admired his optimism, but felt he was a fool. "Yeah, and you won't see that day if you get caught by the police. What are you doing anyway? Playing grown men's games and doing their dirty work?" Her words were disapproving. She clearly had more to say on the matter, but she seemed to have silenced herself before she could.

Pierre took offence at this and looked at her angrily. "How dare you imply that I am just a pawn? I chose to help and I choose to die for my cause should it come to that." His whole body had gone from relaxed to tense in a moment. It was a sudden snap that changed the atmosphere of the whole room.

Azelma jumped back at his outburst. "Well you don't need to go all martyr on me right now thank you very much. I'm only trying to help." She retorted, slightly offended at his abrasive mood. She had given him shelter after all. She was still within her rights to all for the police.

"Yeah, well don't." He grumbled, annoyed at her musings. He would not be seen to be a child. 

A heavy silence drifted over them after Pierre's outburst, keeping them looking away from each other. Surely two strangers could not be more awkward within a small space.

"Look...I'm sorry," he murmured after a minute or two, "I had no right to shout at you." Pierre said softly, moving his hand to hold hers in his. It was a platonic gesture, but comforting not nevertheless. He felt guilty, since she was helping him after all.

"It's fine." She mumbled, looking to where their hands met and watching how his fingers wrapped around hers. Strange.....how a stranger could feel so warm...so...familiar.

"I don't know anything about you..." He whispered.

"You're right, you don't." She grumbled back. 

There was another silence, but this one felt more promising than the last. 

"My brother went to fight.... "Azelma admitted, "I haven't seen him in weeks. He opposes the monarchy." She murmured, looking to him in hope. Opposing the monarchy was a nice way of saving revolution. So she was one of them after all.

Did she want answers from him? Probably. The look she was giving him hinted at that and he knew he should probably ask her more about her brother. 

"Bruyere did you say?" Pierre asked, careful to see Azelma's reaction.

"Oui. Jean-Luc Bruyere." She replied eagerly, her whole body lighting up with hope. Her eyes were enchanting when she did that, he noted. 

Pierre took a moment to look away and clear his throat. 

She had to say that name, didn't she. She had to choose the name with the answer he didn't want to ever give. 

He had seen Jean-Luc Bruyere die right in front of him earlier that day. 

"I know him." He spoke quietly, not sure how to broach the topic at all. He barely knew the man. His body was probably still lying there on the cold ground. "He...." 

Pierre then looked into Azelma's hopeful eyes, and he knew that he could not tell her. He would not be the one to make those hopeful blue eyes sad and mournful. He was a coward, every time.

"He was well when I last saw him." He lied, watching as Azelma's face lit up with happiness. "That is, I don't know where he is now but..."

Pierre's words were cut short by the brunt force of Azelma's body wrapping itself around him in a tightly gripped hug; a hug he definitely didn't deserve.

"Oh! Bless the heavens! Merci Pierre! Merci!" She whispered to herself, a weight seemingly lifting off her heart, whereas Pierre felt a giant weight pulling his down. 

Sometimes it was better to forever be wondering than to know the brutal truth. 

"What about your parents?" Pierre asked quickly, hoping that she did not ask about her brother again. 

"They died when I was a child," she said softly, shrugging to herself. "Jean-Luc raised me. He is my big brother. Taught me to fight and everything." She smiled to herself at memories of their time as children. Things were so different now. 

"I'm sorry." Pierre whispered. 

"Don't be. It's not like it was your fault." She laughed. 

He smiled at that. She knew how to stay happy. 

"And you? What about your family?" She asked in return. 

He looked to the floor at that and shrugged. 

"They are alright you know. Bog standard; Loving mother, father. Only child." He stated. 

Azelma pursed her lips in reply but didn't say anything. He wasn't going to tell her the full truth. She would be better off not knowing that his mother was a whore and he has no idea who his father was. It tended to be better that way. 

"You seem bitter about your father. Is that why you chose to fight?" She was good at reading people, clearly. 

"Yeah something like that. Not a great father." He mumbled. 

Small lies weren't going to hurt anyone anyway. It's not like he would see her again after this. 

Pierre heard a small yawn come from the person beside him. He looked over to see Azelma stretching tiredly. 

He had interrupted her sleep anyway. It was dark outside and had been for at least two hours, despite being July. 

"Sorry..." She mumbled guiltily, trying to hide her fatigue.

"Don't be." He smiled back. 

He realised her hand was still holding tight to hers and he gripped it hard. She took a deep breath, blushing slightly when he continued to look at her. 

"What?" She laughed, when his stare still hadn't broken. 

"Has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful?" He spoke smoothly, after truly taking in her beauty for the first time. The way she smiled was like that of a princess in a fairytale. Or like an angel. At first glance, she may have not seemed particularly alluring, but by gosh, that smile would challenge a siren any day.

She laughed lightly, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. 

"Oh I'm sure that's true. It's just convenient that we are sat on a bed and I'm the only girl in the vicinity. I'm not stupid, nor naive Monsieur. It takes a lot more than some petty compliments and a small chat about our families to lure me into bed, be sure of that." She smiled, watching as Pierre pretended to be slightly shocked at her insinuation. 

"Why I never. My charm must have worn off." He teased, making her laugh again. "I must dish out better compliments then."

"Why, I challenge you to say something that you believe would lure even the King's daughter into your bed chambers." She smirked, laughing still as he sat up straight and pumped out his chest to look as manly as possible. 

"Why my dearest Azelma, the moon could never light up the dark streets as much as your beauty could." He said in a mocking tone of men from love tales. 

"Oh do go on!" Azelma replied breathily, fanning herself with her hand as though she were a dimwitted noble woman. 

"My dearest, I love you so much, I even love the smell of your armpits when you haven't washed in days!" He declared.

"Oh my! How positively enchanting!" 

"Your hair is the colour of hedehogs and newly cut wood. A woodcutter would surely not realise you were a tree, it is so accurate!"

"Why Monsieur, that is the most romantic thing a man has ever told me! Why not come lie with me in my chambers you poor besotted thing!" She mocked as though she were deeply in love with him.

Azelma stuck her young out at Pierre childishly, causing them both to burst into fits of laughter. 

"Alright then." She smiled. "You've enchanted me enough to earn a right to share my bed, but only for sleeping in! I'm trusting you to be a gentleman." 

Pierre smiled back at her. "The man will do whatever mademoiselle wishes." 

Taking off his rugged shoes and heavy jacket, Pierre lay back on the small bed. He tried to make himself as small as possible to avoid taking up too much space.

Azelma watched him as he did so, before lowering herself beside him onto the thin mattress and resting her head on the cushion beneath her. 

"Thank you." Pierre whispered, turning to smile at Azelma. 

She smiled back, watching him watch her. He wasn't particularly handsome, but then she wasn't particularly pretty either. But he was a strange young man who would be gone in the morning and would possibly die soon. The least she could do is lend him her company, 

"Where do you plan on going Pierre?" She asked, bringing her hand to hold his again as they lay on their sides facing new each other. 

"I don't know..." He replied honestly. "Far away, where they'll never find me and where the land is free and ruled properly."

Azelma smiled to herself. "Sounds like it would be nice."

"I guess.....and then I'll return home when France is free and great one more." He decided. 

Azelma looked away and nodded softly. "Like we will ever be free. Everyone who cares enough to fight will be escaping to this free land like you." 

"Have hope 'Zelma." He mumbled, moving to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

\---

The night passed and the couple slept. Morning came and Pierre took the sunlight as his cue to leave. 

"Will I ever see you again?" Azelma asked him gently, a far cry from the tough woman he had met the night before when she tried to hit him to death with a pan. 

"If I ever come back to France, I'll look for you." Pierre promised, smiling at her in return. 

Pierre moved to place a small kiss on Azelma's lips; a promise of what could and what will be. 

"And every time my head hurts, I'll think of you hitting me with your pan." He laughed. 

"Oh get gone with you!" She said affectionately, watching as he smirked, before leaving her forever. 

She knew it was silly, but oh how she wished he could stay a while longer so that she could get to know him more. She truly had developed a small crush in the night she had met him and would continue to think of him fondly in future times. 

She would never see him again, 'though. He would die that very evening with the thoughts of her on his mind, despite the knife ripping through his chest. 

XXXXXXX

In some lifetimes, the soul mates did not meet. 

In some lifetimes, one was a creature five galaxies away, and one was but a tiny organism in the sky.

In some, the soulmates were blades of grass that were to be cut down once summer arrived.

In some they were simple creatures of the Earth and soil.

XXXXXX

She could see the whole world beneath her as she spread her wings to fly. Her babies needed to feed, and so did she. 

Scooping down to the ground, she looked around for the vermin creatures that were tasty to eat. 

She spotted one, crawling through the soil. It was long and looked to be juicy. 

But something was stopping her from picking it up to feed to her children. She didn't know why, and she never would. 

But the bird chose to leave the worm alone and find another one. What does one silly worm's difference mean anyway?

XXXXXX

Wandering the streets of East London, Rupert found himself in some of the places he wished least to be. 

The stench of dirty bodies was foul and he wished for nothing more than to get back to his home. The smog was making it hard to see further than a few feet, being extra thick tonight. He should hurry home if he wished to feel comfortable once more.

Seeing the way these people lived always made him grateful for what has. He hated these trips to this area of the city. He made a point to avoid them unless it was absolutely necessary.

"You wanting any love?" The bellowing cry of a woman called to him.

The calls of whores lining the walls of the streets were all around, shouting to him in the hopes they had found their next customer.

He was wearing a nice coat, so it seemed fitting that they would want him to be their next customer. These women could spy his riches from a mile off, and their trade was all about riches in exchange for simple pleasures.

He sped up his pace, hoping to get back to where his carriage was parked so he could return quickly. Perhaps he had been careless in coming to the East End of London at this time of day after all.

Thinking about getting away from the women, he found himself not looking where he was going and tripping over the curb where the pavement met the road. 

He heard his case and belongings hit the ground before he felt it, just like he could feel the eyes of the women watching him as he fell. In the moment he took before he hit the ground, he realised that his belongings could be thrown everywhere for someone to take. It was telling that his ultimate panic was the tools of his trade.

"Are you alright?" A young woman called, helping to pick him up off the curb. He froze internally with the knowledge that this woman was a whore.

Rupert clung to his briefcase, wary that most would do anything to get their hands on anything of any value. 

He looked up to see the woman talking to him, smirking. "S'alright love. I'm not into nabbing stuff off men who fall over." She laughed, giving him a soft smile in return.

She looked him up and down, making him feel vaguely uncomfortable. "You not been round here much then?" She asked, knowing the answer to her own question. It was clear he was far from his comfort zone.

"No. I'm just here to help a..." He stumbled despite himself, not knowing what was the right thing to say. "A...a...a someone." He finally settled on. It was probably unwise to declare himself on the spot.

The woman moved closer and whispered knowingly, "you're a doctor." 

He nodded quickly, watching as she smirked once more, happy she had found the answer before saying anything. 

"Don't worry," she smiled, "I won't ask you to give me an examination. Goodness knows, I don't want knowin' what's wrong with me." 

Rupert felt more relaxed at that. He felt her move closer again, and he knew he should probably walk away. 

She would be hoping that he would be her next customer in exchange for some money.

He didn't blame her though. She was a whore. She had to get her livelihood somehow. 

Before he could stop her, she had picked up his free hand and was examining his palm. He could feel the course nature of her fingertips as they traced across his skin; a tell tale sign of the life this woman led. Goodness knows, she had probably been destined for this her entire life.

"You've got a graze or two. Might want to get that checked out." She tutted, knowingly. He smiled despite himself.

"Yeah...." Rupert took a moment to truly look at her. She looked young....too young. Probably never had anything going for her. 

Unlike the other women calling in the street, this one looked gentle. She looked kind, and he couldn't help but want to help her. 

"I'm sorry, how rude of me, what's your name?" He asked politely. 

She seemed to think over what to say for a while before she finally settled on "Hattie. I'm called Hattie."

He knew she was lying, but he didn't really care. He didn't blame her much. 

A name is something you choose to call yourself and indeitfy by. It was only fair that she chose a false name when conducting her work. It wasn't exactly as though she were in an honest trade.

"Rupert." He told in return. What was the use in a false name anyway. She would probably see right through him.

"I like you Rupert." She smiled, his hand still held in hers. Her fingers were dancing gently around his palm and he could help but feel enticed. "You're different than the rest." She elaborated on her earlier declaration. 

Rupert blushed, not sure how to handle the strange feelings she stirred inside of him. He felt like a young boy all over again.

She couldn't help but laugh at him, watching as his cheeks turned bright red. It seemed she found amusement in his own embarrassment.

"Come on." She beckoned, tugging his arm back down the street that he has just come down. "I know a nice place we could go."

He knew he should be telling her that he had to return to his carriage. She had only helped him and he had no obligation in any way to....but he found that his feet were moving not before his brain had even processed these thoughts. There was something about her that enchanted him and he couldn't explain it in any way other than he felt an inclination towards this young woman's.

He followed her blindly, despite telling himself he would protest and claim it was a bad idea. He simply couldn't help himself from doing as she said. He had never felt such temptation before, from either a woman or in any other form.

She led him towards an alley that contained a small flight of stairs. He discovered that at the top of the stairs lay a room with a small bed in it, after ascending the stairs behind 'Hattie' and entering the small doorway.

Rupert was sure that he was about to make his final protest and go back to his carriage. He really shouldn't be doing this. He really, really shouldn't be...

His train of thought was interrupted by the perfect placement of her lips upon his. All rational thought left his mind in that moment and he threw all his morals out of the window. Oh god, this woman must have been a siren of some form.

He felt the small woman pull his coat off his shoulders and throw it elsewhere in the toom, before prying his briefcase out of his tight grip and putting it down with the coat. 

She continued to kiss him, moving her focus from his lips down towards his neck, sucking lightly and gently biting down so that he was truly enthralled by her. 

She was good at this, he knew. He didn't want to think about the numerous men she had done this to before.

"You can touch me you know." 'Hattie' smirked against his neck, amused by his shyness.

Rupert took a moment to fluster and wave his hands around before she firmly grabbed them and placed each hand on her own breasts. 

"Better?" She asked slowly, watching as his eyes widened in shock.

He turned red and slowly nodded. "Yes." He whispered, not quite knowing what to do. 

"You're a strange one, you are." She laughed, tugging Rupert by his collar back towards the bed. He wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a complaint.

He stayed quiet as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt, sensing that she wanted to ask him something more but didn't feel like she could. 

"You know, usually men can't wait to get me into bed. Even the shy ones." She joked, not sounding as humoured as she did before. In fact, she seemed concerned about him.

She watched as he looked straight into her eyes. It was like he was looking at her. Not her body, not where hands were roaming on his chest...just at her. She couldn't help but stare back for a moment, completely captivated by the young man's stare. 

"Don't look at a girl like that, she'll get ideas." 'Hattie' laughed as she shook herself awake, looking down as Rupert snapped himself out of his daze momentarily. 

"Sorry." He mumbled hesitantly. 

"Don't be." She whispered in reply. 

And somewhere in the recesses of her mind she recalled those same words being spoken, in a small room, sat on a bed like the one she was now and next to a young man. 

It was like the deja vu from a dream; a beautiful dream she may have once had about a better life elsewhere. 

But she wasn't the girl in the dream, and so she continued to kiss him and unbutton his clothing. She would grant him his simple pleasures and ask for the money once it was all over. Maybe she would go back out to the street corner in the hope that she could get another customer who could help her pay for the next twenty four hours of living.

When Rupert left later that night, he realised that he had never truly learnt her real name. 

To him that night was more real than anything, but he knew, even so, that to her it was just one more night of pleasing a customer. 

What he would give to meet her again.

XXXXXXX

He watched her, like he did every night. 

He came and listened to her sing and watched her dance. 

She was like an angel. But every man in the room would say that. 

The difference was, she considered him her friend. 

Every night, when the bar began to close up and the crowds started leaving, she would sit with him and they would have a drink and talk. 

He never missed a day coming to this sleazy place, even though he didn't particularly like it. He wouldn't, just for her. 

The way she moved and sung was so beautiful. She was the devil in human form, made to haunt him with temptation. 

But the way she smiled when she spoke with him as a friend was anything but the sign of a seductress. The glint of happiness in her eye, and her wide smile was everything he needed to remind him just how amazing she was. 

He was glad that the other men only got to see her long legs and short blonde curls, for he got to see her when she was herself. 

He had waited for the show to finish and the crowds to leave, and as always he panicked that today would be the day she wouldn't want to speak with him. 

But like always, he heard her call from across the room "Jerome!" 

He stood up and smiled, "Hi Bonnie!" 

He kissed each of her cheeks before sitting down at his table, with her taking a place opposite. 

"How are you?" He asked, loving how she always smiled when he asked that. 

"Good. Same as ever. Although there's this new girl and she is as dumb as two short planks. Bless her. She can only be about sixteen though...doesn't know what's coming for her." Bonnie sighed. "Anyway, how have you been?"

"Good. Slow business, but I guess that's to be expected." He tried to be eager in each dull detail, just so she wouldn't get bored and walk away.

Jerome owned a record shop, which is what got Bonnie talking to him. One day she wanted to be a singer, but working in the speakeasy was as close as she could get to stardom.

Jerome feared she would never get to leave this awful place. 

"It'll pick up, I'm sure. People will always love music." She smiled, pointing her finger in the air to the band who were still playing a few tunes. 

Bonnie nodded along to the tune for a monent, humming along to herself before she grinned at Jerome.

"Come on," she said, holding her hand out towards in, "no one has asked me to dance in forever and you're good company."

Jerome wasn't one to say no to an invitation to dance, and he happily took her hand, twirling her around the table so that he could wrap his arms around her as she laughed. 

 

They continued to dance, twirling and laughing and moving, until a loud voice suddenly bellowed "Bonnie!"

Bonnie's whole body tensed up at the sound of the loud voice, and she reluctantly pulled away from Jerome. 

"Sorry." She mouthed at him and he waved his hand to tell her it was nothing. He was way too used to this. 

"What do you want Roy?" She shouted back, slowly picking up her bag from the table, as though their exchange previously had been nothing and they were only acquaintances rather than friend so.

Roy Shroedur. The man who owned this place. Bonnie's boss. And also the man she was dating...unfortunately. 

Jerome watched as Bonnie walked over to him, giving him a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. Her kiss was as reluctant as her smile and Jerome's heart tore a little to see Bonnie so unhappy.

Jerome hated Roy. He hated the way that man touched Bonnie; the way he spoke to her and the way he used her. 

The man was a sleaze and didn't deserve her. 

But he could do nothing. It's not like he could date Bonnie. She didn't see him that way. 

He watched as Roy told Bonnie to stay quiet and do as she was told. 

God, he hated that man so much. 

Picking up his things, Jerome moved towards the exit, only glancing back for a moment to see Bonnie send his a soft smile and a small wave. 

He smiled in return and left to go home until the next night. 

\---

"I brought you something." Jerome smiled, watching as Bonnie's face lit up. 

He pulled a record out of his case and handed it to her. 

"Oh my god, thank you!" She squealed gleefully. "This is amazing!" Her grin could not be matched by anything in the world.

Jerome shrugged, laughing off the compliment. "It's a compilation of songs I thought you would like. I have this thing at the store which means I can make my own-"

Bonnie had picked up Jerome's hand and kissed it in gratitude. "Thank you so much." She smiled. 

Jerome couldn't help but smile back. Her smile was too infectious.

As always, they began talking about everything they possibly could. They'd been known to talk well into the early hours of the morning. Those were always his favourite evenings. 

"If you keep giving me presents, I'll have to give some to my parents!" She laughed. 

"Where do your parents live?" He asked curiously.

"Over in Queens. I visit them sometimes." She smiled softly, tracing the edge of the record with her finger. 

"Do they ever come to see you perform?" He asked.

She laughed and shook her head. "God no. They'd have heart attacks if they saw me now. For all they know I work as a waitress in a bar."

"Don't approve of these places huh?" He smiled. 

"Something like that."

\---

 

"What happened?" He growled out. 

Bonnie hadn't performed that day and he had been worried. 

Scrap that, he has been terrified because there was no way she would leave without saying goodbye to him. 

But like an answer to a prayer, she had appeared after the show to speak with him. 

Expect she has a cast on her arm and looked like hell. In honesty, she hadn't been looking well at all recently. 

Jerome wanted to go and punch Roy. Even if that man wasn't responsible, which he undoubtedly was, then why wasn't he taking better care of her?

"Jerome, keep your voice down. Look it's only broken, it's fine-"

"What happened?" He asked again, angry that she felt the need to evade him.

"Ssh! God Jerome keep it down!" She whispered harshly. She looked around to see Roy staring at her from the bar. 

Jerome looked over as well and saw how intensely the man was watching them. His state made Jerome shift uncomfortably and he saw Bonnie do the same. 

"Did he hurt you?" Jerome asked quietly, reaching out to touch the cast on her arm so there was no way she could 'misinterpret' and answer him differently. 

Bonnie looked down to the table. "Does it really matter?" She muttered morosely.

"Yes." He hissed, hating her hurt expression. "Because I'm gonna kill that gross man for so much as ever touching you."

"Jerome no..." Bonnie whimpered, looking back to her arm. "It's only broken...and I...fell."

Jerome rolled his eyes. He may be besotted but he wasn't stupid. "You really want me to believe that bull-"

"Yes, I do. That's what you'll believe, and it's the last we will say on the matter." She commanded. 

He hated this. He hated watching her cover up for that man. She deserved so much more....she deserved goddamn better.

The table turned to silence as the band played on. Bonnie looked like she wanted to say something, but she couldn't. Almost as if something was physically stopping her from doing so. 

"Roy said that an agent contacted him. Needed a dancer for a movie and-"

"Do you really believe all that rubbish he feeds you Bonnie?" Jerome sighed. 

She looked up at him, a look of broken despair coating her face that she tried to hide. 

"No." She cried softly, tears being held back behind her tight eyes. Her throat was thick with emotion she was unable to display. "but what else do I have if I admit he is lying?"

He could have broken right then. Seeing her in such a bad way could have ended him. 

"You need to leave him Bon." He begged quietly. He was begging....it was the only way to.

"I can't, I-"

"Leave him." He commanded.

"He would find me. He has contacts and-"

"Find another man who loves you and cares for you and follow your dreams."

Bonnie shook her head sadly. "No one would want me. I'm a mess."

Jerome shook his head violently and held her hand tighter, careful not to get too close so that Roy's watching eye didn't get angry. 

"No Bonnie, you're beautiful and gorgeous. The whole world will love you."

"Really?" She asked in disbelief. 

"Yes." He said firmly, not an inch of hesitation in his voice. 

Bonnie scanned his face for a hint of something she knew she had seen before. 

Then she spoke in a small, quiet voice; a prayer from her heart. "Do you love me Jerome?"

Jerome froze. What would it mean if he said yes? Would that be the end of everything? Could they even be together after all of this. Of course he loved her, he just didn't know how to say that he...

"Jerome?" She snapped him out of his daze. "Do you love me?" She said firmly. 

Another silence hung over them, and he heard Bonnie choke on a sob. Oh God no, that wasn't what he-

"I get it." She whispered. 

She stood up to leave, but Jerome grabbed her healthy arm and turned her back to face him at the table. 

"Does the moon come out at night?" He whispered. 

Bonnie looked down at him in confusion. 

"Jerome, that's not what I-"

"Tell me. Does the moon come out at night?" He insisted. 

"Yes." She sighed, watching him as though he were a broken hope. 

"And....does a rainbow appear when the sun comes out after it rains?"

Bonnie shut her eyes tight and nodded. "Yes." A whisper only he could hear. 

"And does the grass grow after you cut it?" 

"Yes."

Jerome shrugged and looked up at her, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"So why do you ask if I love you? Of course I do.....I have to....how could I not?" He whispered. 

Bonnie suddenly gained that hopeful glint in her eye that he loved to see and she smiled softly at him. 

"Jerome...I love y-"

"Bonnie! Get over here!" Roy shouted, cutting her off. 

Bonnie slipped her arm out of Jerome's grip and looked at him sadly one last time before walking over to an angry looking Roy. Once again, it was almost as if she was indifferent to him. He was unable to save her.

And Jerome had to take his leave. That was how it always worked. 

\---

He went back to the speakeasy every night for a month, but Bonnie was nowhere to be found. 

He guessed by the unwelcome scowls of Shrouder's men that he wasn't in good favour with the boss, but he still came to see if she was there. 

The first night, he had brought flowers. 

He planned to take her away. 

After a month, he eventually asked one of the other showgirls where she was. 

"You don't know?" She exclaimed in disbelief. "She's up the duff. You know? Pregnant. Poor thing. Got no one in the world for her. Her and the boss are engaged"

"What about her parents?" He asked, "hasn't she got them to go to?"

The woman looked at him pitifully. "Oh...you barely even knew her at all did you sweetie?"

Jerome looked at her in confusion. What was this girl talking about?

"Her parents died when she was seventeen. She ain't got nobody else."

Jerome felt his heart tear in two. 

Maybe she had never really loved him at all.

 

XXXXX

 

In some lifetimes, the soulmates were in harmony. 

They roamed the oodsphere in a peaceful society, and that was enough for them.

In others, one was a spider on the wall whilst the other was a Skaled on Skaro. 

They didn't always meet. 

But they always knew they were meant for something more.

XXXXXXX

A little girl skipped around the living room as she listened to the television.

"Mommy?" She asked. 

"Yes sweetie?" Her mother replied. 

"How come the president is speaking on the television?" She asked sweetly. 

"Because Karen, he is telling us about the nasty people in Russia." She said, coming up behind Karen to give her a big hug. 

"Is all of Russia nasty? Every single person?" Karen mused, looking up at her Mom for an answer. 

"I don't know baby. I've never met a Russian before." 

Karen hummed to herself before declaring "I wanna meet a Russian Mommy, so then I can tell you if they're mean and nasty."

Her mother laughed softly. "Of course you do baby, of course you."

Xxxx

On his death bed, Artur thought back to his life. 

He couldn't believe he was so lucky. 

He had two beautiful children and a gorgeous wife. He had fought in two wars for his country and served honourably. 

Now it was his time to go so his spirit could move on. 

Artur took one final glimpse at the beautiful land outside his window, before he finally closed his eyes and rested in peace.

XXXXXX

He was watching her again; the way she skipped around the TARDIS console as she educated him with her stories from her day at work. 

It was always the same to the most part, but be just couldn't bring himself to tell her to shut up. Not when she looked so happy. 

So he pretended that he wasn't paying attention, adjusting the usual moody look on his face.

"Doctor?" She asked sweetly, but he knew that tone and it was when she got annoyed with him, which was always. 

"Yeah?" He replied dully.

"Are you listening?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. 

"Yeah, yeah, teaching and stuff." He waved his hand away as if he didn't care and he watched as she huffed to herself. 

He would never say how adorable she was when she did that. It was worth annoying her just to see her get all riled up. 

She continued to speak about whatever it was she had before, leaving the Doctor to think again. 

He was finally happy. Clara was living on the TARDIS with him, after realising how short life is. 

And despite being two thousand years old, the Doctor now knew it too and wasn't taking any chances. He would spend every second with Clara so that he could never miss a moment. 

He never wanted to see her grieve again, like she had Danny. He wanted to always see her happy. 

Briefly, the Doctor felt a moment of deja vu, when he remembered a moment comforting a woman on a death. But the Doctor had lived for so long, a simple case of deja vu could have been anything from a memory to just a simple dream he once had. It was hard to distinguish between the two a lot of the time. 

All the Doctor knew is that he never wanted to see Clara unhappy ever again. He wasn't sure his hearts would be able to take it.

Nothing in the Universe made him happier than seeing her face when they were running for their lives, or saving the day. 

His brave, smart, beautiful Clara. 

He doesn't even know who he would be without her. 

Half of what he is. 

That's the answer. He wouldn't be the man he was if it wasn't for Clara. He wouldn't be able to breathe without Clara.

"Doctor!" Clara snapped again, making him look up from where he had been staring at the TARDIS console.

"I'm listening." He insisted, waiting for her nod of approval before she continued. 

"Anyway, so I had this novel idea about a man named Jerome in 1920's New York, and he knows this girl called Bonnie..."

The Doctor listened, smiling at her story as she told it's tale; also frowning at how it tragically ended. 

"I know the ending is rubbish, but that's when I ran out of ideas. But I was thinking, when I write it up, Jerome can find Bonnie and it won't be happily ever after, but maybe there's more to their tale than what I thought. I'd like to think it worked out between them...." Clara mused, trailing off Ito her own thoughts. "I just feel like I know these characters so well you know....almost like I was there...that's why I want them to work out so much I guess...."

"Of course it works out. They're soulmates." The Doctor said simply.

Clara looked up at him, confusion writ all over her face. "Huh?" 

The Doctor waved his hand, shaking his head. "Ah, ignore me. Just some idle thoughts being said out loud."

"Okay." Clara mumbled. It wasn't unusual for the Doctor to make strange comments on things.

She waited a moment before looking around the console expectedly, waiting for the signal that he was ready to start a new day.

"So...." She began, drumming her fingers against one of the levers. 

"So...." The Doctor begin, smiling up at her. "How would you like to go to the newly civilised Brathra? The legends say that the celebrations of their peace lasted three whole months. Three whole months of partying, waiting right for us!"

Clara grinned back at him, moving around the console to smile up at him. 

"Let's go." She grinned, watching as the Doctor's face lit up.

The Doctor out his hands on the lever, waiting for Clara to place hers on top of his.   
He looked at her as she did and smiled at her, whilst she smiled back. This was the Doctor and Clara, the ultimate team. They were everything the universe needed, together. 

And so, Together they pulled the lever down, sending them spiralling off to a different adventure. 

XXXXX

Some say soulmates aren't real; that they are just a myth created by silly humans. 

But some know better than that. 

They know that in one case, two people's destinies are, and always have been, written in the stars.


End file.
